Everybody's Weird Like That
by WitchWolf
Summary: Four oneshots based on HeX Coda, the great module by Stefan Gagne. Enough said. Go read!
1. Balance

**Disclaimer: **Ok, you all know the stunt: I don't own anything here save for my twisted little mind, all right?

This is based on a wonderful mod HEX Coda by Stefan Gagne. Setting is his, characters are his (Cleo is mine, though), words are my own, but they are cheap and you can have them. ;)

If you haven't played the mod, the people and the references won't mean much to you. If you're interested in some lousy, third-rate philosophy, however, you might as well read it. Who knows? Might get you thinking… If it does, though, if I were you I'd start worrying.

* * *

**Balance**

"Balance?" Miranda exclaimed incredulously, almost dropping the trey.

"Balance," confirmed Cleo, stretching her legs leisurely and resting her elbow on the table.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Miranda demanded, sizing the sitting half-elf up and down.

Though she knew her for almost a year now, she was still an enigma to her. Nothing like Daniel, of course; unlike Mr. Smirking Smugness, Cleo was more than happy to blurt out every last detail about her life, if only one showed some interest in it. But the way her mind worked… Again, nothing like Pandy – the creepier part of the Monium Duo. _Nothing_, Miranda reflected, compared to the way _Pandy's_ mind worked… and thank whoever for that, she added dryly. No, Cleo was nothing like the Nightmare Siblings. But she _was _a monk and that made her weird sometimes. Monks were rare in the Third Try… unlike during the Second. Sometimes… it was almost like staring at the relic from the past. But then, there _was_ Six, and Six was a genuine Second Try article. Cleo… She was just weird.

Miranda put the tray down with a sound bonk, two coffee mugs giving a slight bounce and the table voicing a profound squeak of protest. One of these days, Miranda thought, that table's gonna give in just as I decide to lean on it.

Cleo stretched across the table and snatched her mug. Yeah, those two mugs were exactly the same, but Miranda's had a chip on it that made it readily distinguishable form all the others. Though, at the rate the Coders (Coders _inc_… dammit all!) were breaking them, Miranda suspected that soon enough her mug would be the only one left of the set. And woe to whoever tries to claim it. Becha Lester would. Luckily enough, the bastard wasn't with them any more… Or was it really _"luckily"_? Bah…

"Philosophy," Cleo said, sniffing the foul steaming brew. Miranda blinked.

"Huh?"

"I said," Cleo repeated, her nose still twitching on the rim of the mug, "I am talking about balance as a philosophy which is really a way of life."

Miranda rolled her eyes. Here we go again… As if one philosopher wasn't enough. Though, she had to admit Cleo's philosophizing was much more bearable than Daniel's… sometimes.

Cleo blew a strand of blonde hair from her face – there was always that one strand falling out of that pony tail of hers – and courageously took a sip. Miranda's attempts to be as different from the rest of her family as possible apparently translated into her coffee-making as well. Whereas Cleo suspected the Sinclairs made their coffee as weak and sugared as the stuff they sold throughout the Aether Slums, Miranda made hers strong enough to tranquilize a grown aux. Which was just as well. Cleo hated her coffee weak anyway.

Miranda sighed, sitting down "All right. Out with it."

"With what?" Cleo grinned innocently.

"Balance…" Miranda growled low.

"Oh, that. Eh… didn't I tell you about it already, back in the gym?"

Miranda tapped her fingers on the table, taking a sip herself. Ouch! Damn, that stuff was hot! How in the world can that crazy monk drink it right away?

Cleo chuckled. Miranda looked at her murderously. "How can you drink that, dammit?"

"Practice," Cleo shrugged. "Just like I can kick your ass in the gym."

"You didn't _kick_ my ass!"

"OK, I didn't," the monk grinned again, "Just gave it a little spanky."

Miranda grumbled incoherent something. By what Cleo could make out, it involved another gym training session but with some sharp objects involved this time and, if at all possible, of slightly elemental nature, too.

"Chill out, Miranda. I've only been at it my whole life, you know."

Miranda looked at her. Yeah. Of course she was. Spending her whole life training unarmed combat, poking around and bugging various "masters of the art" for more and more knowledge on it… and seeking balance. Balance… Agh! And the most infuriating part of it was that she was actually achieving it!

"So… What's with that famous balance, then? I guess you ain't talkin' just about that circle kick you were… _showing_ me." Circle kick… she still had a sore shoulder from that one.

Cleo chuckled again. "No. As I said, I'm talking philosophy. Inner balance. One…"

"…with nature, one with yourself, mind over body…" Miranda finished in a voice of a bored student repeating her lesson for about n-tieth time. "Yeah, yeah… It all sounds cool while you're just blabbing about it."

"Um-hum," Cleo nodded and took another sip. "But the thing is…" She shook her head.; "The thing is there's no use talking about it. It's something you gotta practice."

"Sure. And then I can do the circle-kick, right?"

"Yeah. And maybe stop snorting whenever Six comes into view."

Miranda scoffed. "Meekness might be contagious. I sure don't wanna catch any of it."

"One must be strong to be weak," Cleo quoted… though who precisely was she quoting doubtful even she knew. Miranda looked at her as if she just said "The Cathedral is good."

"That," she said slowly, "is the biggest idiotism I've yet heard you say."

"Is it?" Cleo tilted her head, "I thought that 'I think I can understand Pandy' still held the number one position."

"No," Miranda grinned, "_That_ is out of any competition by far."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well… Let me put it this way: Six is out of time and out of place. If she were as weak as you make her, she'd crack by now. Yet she didn't. She lost her friends, she lost her family, she got kicked out of her secure little world; from a magic-free society tossed into this magic-limiting Try… And still she didn't crack. Sad – yes, but cracked? Definitely not. And that takes strength of spirit, hence," Cleo finished a bit triumphantly, "to be weak you must be strong first."

Miranda glared. "So what's that got to do with balance?"

"Everything. But to explain what I mean," a mischievous glint lit Cleo's eyes, "I think I'll need something other than this coffee."

Now it was Miranda's turn to tilt her head. "Like…?"

"Like… something with a bit more bounce to it. Like… "

"Like one of my bottles, you mean."

Cleo smiled widely.

"Cleo… " Miranda shook her head. "Aren't you monks supposed to be… Uh... I dunno. Ascetic or something? And besides, it's not like anything I can pour down your throat is gonna have any effect on you anyway."

"Nope. But my palate will appreciate it greatly. And I dunno what you're talking about. That last elven master I trained with could outdrink both of us under the table."

"Right," Miranda got up. "You," she said, pointing an accusing finger Cleo's way, "are a blatant extortionist!"

"Who, me? Nah. It's you I'm thinking about here – My grains of wisdom are much easier to swallow with some alcohol behind them."

"Oh, you're right about that, all right." Miranda snorted and disappeared into the kitchen.

& & & & &

Some minutes later, she came out carrying a bottle - Just common wine, but it'll do for the occasion. She heard a silent thump and winced. Dammit all! That's likely going to be the third dart board in two months! For all her supposed wisdom, Cleo never seemed to grasp that concept of a _dart_-board being for _darts_ and not shurikens to launch at.

"It's coming out of your purse, you know," she grumbled, popping the cork out.

Cleo shrugged and planted another shuriken into the board.

"So," Miranda said, taking a swig and passing the bottle, "Balance."

Cleo took the bottle and looked at it thoughtfully. "Balance…Well, it's kinda like fine wine, really." Something in the way she said "fine" made Miranda think the monk didn't consider what she held right now to be in that category. "The right blend. A perfect mix of all ingredients as to produce the finest and most pleasant taste possible." Cleo took a swig and made a face. "A little bit of sourness, a little bit of bitterness, but also the right amount of sweetness, properly aged, smelling slightly of wood and just a little bit dry."

"Are you talking balance or what you would want this thing to taste like?"

Cleo laughed. "Miranda, we both know that _this_ thing can't taste like that no matter what you do to it!"

"Hrmph," Miranda snatched the bottle and took another swig. "Well then, if there are wines that can't taste properly no matter what, then there are also people who can't be balanced, no matter what."

"I didn't say that. But I did and do say that not everyone can be a monk."

"Elitist…" Miranda grumbled under her breath.

"Nope. Just stating the obvious… And gimme that!" Cleo grabbed the bottle and took a swig herself. "But monks are not the only ones who can achieve balance. Everyone can find it for themselves. They just need try."

"Tries," Miranda mumbled sourly, "Tend to end in big, disastrous blasts."

Cleo frowned. "Only if you let them."

"I don't remember us being able to do anything about it." Miranda's voice was low.

"No. And that's balance, too."

"How?"

Cleo sighed deeply and looked up, her blue orbs meeting Miranda's green. Miranda 's jaw clenched. Sometimes, she thought, sometimes she had a n uneasy feeling that Cleo was looking straight _in_to her mind. Then again, she reflected bitterly, Cleo _was_, technically, in her mind once already. And that, in hindsight, was as uncomfortable as it gets. Still, she met the monk's gaze sternly, determined not to show any of the budding frustration inside.

"Balance," Cleo said slowly and seriously – something Miranda found to be even more unnerving than the mind-piercing gaze accompanying the words – "Is a way of life. Balance _is_ life."

"Life," Miranda countered harshly, "is _not_ calm and peaceful." The words left her mouth even though she didn't want them to. Those words, she knew, could well pave the road into the grounds where she would not feel comfortable at all. But still, those grounds were there, whether she wanted to tread them or not, and the fact that she just said what she said was a clear tell-tale sign of it, for both women present. Damn! Serious talks should be left for when someone isn't too sober for it!

"And balance is not peace, Miranda." Before Miranda could point out that that flew directly in the face of what Cleo was previously saying, the monk continued. "As I said, it's kinda like wine. You strive to make it just the right mixture of ingredients, to get that perfect blend of taste and smell, but you can never really get there. But, you can keep trying and in trying, you'll get better and better in brewing it, every next bottle a little better than the one before. Like wine… like combat… Like anything."

"But then you're never really there, are you?"

"But you _are_ there. It's striving to achieve it that already puts you there – But you gotta stay there and do your best to make it better and better."

"You're not making any sense, Cleo."

Cleo shook her head. "Maybe I'm not. It's… hard to explain sometimes. And especially if you refuse to listen."

Miranda snapped her head up sharply. "What do you mean!"

"I mean, you don't want to hear it because that would make you think about it and you don't want to do that," Cleo stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm tired of all the riddle-talk, dammit! You sound just like Daniel now!"

Cleo's gaze pierced through her like a spear. "All right. Straight and blunt, then. Balance is a fluent thing – it moves, it shifts, it happens. If you are there, then you move along with it. If you are not, then you're just running to catch up and, in the end, you just end up winded and pissed. To have balance means that you are in peace with whatever's happening, good or bad, cuz it's all a part of life and you just gotta take it as it is. You can and should try changing what you don't like about it, but first you must have the idea of what you want done before you start changing things. Introspection – that's what my meditations are for. Yeah, I do get very pissed at what I see sometimes, but it's me and I gotta deal with it. You," Cleo poked Miranda's shoulder, "just take a glance and then decide you don't want to look at it. As long as you keep it up like that, you'll never be the happy-go-lucky-take-things-in-stride-and-kick-them-hard type you're trying to pass yourself for."

Miranda stood up angrily. "I am not…"

"Yes you are!" Cleo shot back. "Think what you will of it, but we both know the Recognizer told you the truth. You can like it or not, but there it is. Turning and choosing points are hard, but you gotta go through them, sooner or later," now Cleo, too, got up. "Just gotta watch it not to be too late… and end up like Lester."

Miranda opened her mouth, but the monk was quicker. "He is defeated by his own pride. Don't make the same mistake."

Abruptly, Cleo turned on her heel and left the kitchen, suddenly leaving fuming Miranda without a verbal sparring partner.

Thud… Crack! Miranda's fist shot down on the table, several splinters shooting up in turn.

Damn! What does she think she's…? …Argh!

Sthud! Clenching her teeth, Miranda kicked the table yet again and snatched the bottle. Forcefully, she sat down and took a deep swig. _Bah! I knew I was too sober for this kid of talk!_

But the damage was done now, she knew. Her mind set off racing for the introspection grounds she had no wish to visit and it was charging there full speed. No amount of alcohol would stop it before it got there.

& & & & &

_Why am I here? What do I want? Where do I want to go?_ Questions followed each other, falling down like a hailstorm.

_Why am I letting it get to me? Why do I care? …Do I care at all?_ She tried countering the assault with good, steady sour wine stream.

_The source of anger… Defeated by pride… Don't be too late… _They refused to drown in the alcohol flood.

_Change what you want, but know what you want first… _Whatta lip service. But still, but still… One of these days, she knew she would have to.

_Face it…_No matter how much she avoided it.

_Choose… _No matter how much she delayed.

_Decide… _No matter how hard it is, she knew she would have to.

She would have to find… _Balance._

_A little bit of sourness, a little bit of bitterness, but also the right amount of sweetness, properly aged, smelling slightly of wood and just a little bit dry… _

_You strive to make it just the right mixture of ingredients, to get that perfect blend of taste and smell, but you can never really get there…_

…Or can you?


	2. Noise OD

**Disclaimer: **Ok, you all know the stunt: I don't own anything here save for my twisted little mind, all right?

This is based on a wonderful mod HeX Coda by Stefan Gagne. Setting is his, characters (bar Justin) are his; words are my own, but they are cheap and you can have them. ;)

* * *

**Noise OD**

All eyes turned Justin's way as he stepped down into the smoky heat of Aether Slum. Several grumbles reached his ears through the maddening synthesized racket that, for some reason or other, was passed off as _music_.

Justin winced. Grumbles and growls were something he was long used to; Aether Slums noise, however, was another matter entirely. Not only did even a corroded automaton with a screw loose sound more pleasant – this repeating pattern of thud-thuds and beeps was somehow so annoyingly catchy! It was the kind of sound that stabs through the ears, drills through the cortex, bursts beneath the scalp and then just stays there buzzing forever and a day.

_A parasite… And considering who composed it and why – How fitting._

Heavy, measured footsteps took Justin across the room and to the free Aether station. He had to put a conscious effort into avoiding to move to the sound of the overwhelming beat. Subtle and not-so-subtle murmurs accompanied his progress:

"A half-orc… Why do they allow… Look at the sword…Can he use.. Sheesh, he's one of them Coders… They let him… I ain't buying nothing from them…"

_Huh… Guess I'm bad for advertisement._

Never mind. It's not like many are buying anything anyway… save for Melee Maidens maybe. So let them talk and grumble and insult. People… People will always be people. Prejudice is an eternal existential constant. Justin knew that well. Roam the Asylum long enough – won't take many steps before you learn that.

Chair groaned under his mass as he was logging on, but the sound passed unnoticed. As well as the ongoing mutters, the groans of the chair was suffocated in the incessant onslaught of Synthetic Obnoxious. Justin grunted a silent curse. He wasn't really a musical type, but he knew utter crap when he heard it. And what's worse, he knew he'd keep hearing it inside his head long after he leaves the Slum.

_Parasite… Like its creator._ But that's Cathedral for you – Big, bloated parasite, leeching its… well, yes, hosts. That was a proper term. And the biggest irony? They were actually _willing_ hosts! Ah, go figure.

His eyes scanned the page briefly. Commercials, commercials and more commercials. "Improve your life – Today!" and all that. _Sure_, Justin grinned, _provided you don't have a sporty pair of tusks… or talk in riddles… or come from the past.. or happen to think that open magic is a good thing. _

Be the same; part of the herd. Don't stand out, blend with the crowd, be the golden middle… _and then you'll be happy as a hazamat in a toxic puddle. Hey, then you can even start jiggling to the beat of this noise and actually **enjoy** it! _

"In the news: Miss Nadia Sinclair is happy to announce that the new line of automatons testing phase is already showing incredibly good results and…"

Justin chuckled, drawing several cautious glances his direction. Hypocrisy… It was so disgusting it was actually amazing sometimes. Let the automatons develop themselves, let them learn, let them grow… Give them free will. And at the same time, make that very thing something bad and, caring about public welfare as you are, take it away from the good people of Asylum so that they won't have to bang their pretty, empty heads about it no more.

_No more banging… so now you can put just about anything inside their heads, and all they'll do is nod, rattle and smile. Clever…_ Times and again, the Sinclairs proved themselves to be many things, but certainly no fools.

Free will… It was dangerous. Almost as dangerous as free magic. Just sacrifice your freedom of choice, your ability to think for yourself and don't worry – We'll do your thinking for you. We'll tell you what's nice and what isn't, we'll tuck you in in your beds at night, and, instead of singing you a song, play you some nice, melodious and _completely free_ Aether Slum music for your pleasure only!

_In hindsight, no wonder brainwashing goes so well. Threaten **me** with some of these sounds and even **I** will buy whatever you want._

"…And for _your_ security only, we bring you _the_…" Justin switched to another page quickly. Security…

Security versus Free Will. Not such a tough choice, is it now? And we all know what the majority would choose. But then, Justin was not, in any way, in majority. Free will… It's what makes people lead their own lives. And _that_ is a prospect most dread, really. Easier to have someone else choose for you. It's something that makes people _think_. And that's what the Cathedral found dangerous. If people would think more, maybe they'd stop buying? Maybe they'd be making choices? Maybe, they would even try making their own magic.

_And where, then, would you be, Nadia? Where would The Cathedral be if suddenly, in every Aether Slum around people just begun rebelling against this… **noise**?_

Click. A touch of a finger, and he logged out. Slowly, he drew himself up and suddenly, found some perverted pleasure in the gazes shot his way as he stretched his massive, burly form, flexed his shoulders and started across the room.

_Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen, the big beast won't break your legs. It won't jump at you, crushing your mumbling jaws… it won't even start spitting at you or take that hideous machine and launch it through the window, busting it into thousand little pieces and shutting this beep-beeping horror down at last. Oh, but maybe some of you would even be grateful to me for it? Well, lads, I'm sorry, but if you want it to stop, you'll have to do it yourselves. This big beast is taking itself out that door and away from what it does not like. You – are free to do the same… maybe. At any rate, big beast bids you good day – these sounds may be too sophisticated for its primitive ears to appreciate._

_& & & & & _

The doors closed behind Justin and he stepped out on the street. Could he really raze the Aether Slum down? Of course he could. Could he get away with it? No. But he _could_ just get away. One step out of the suburb and into the wild out there – that would be all it would take him to disappear from anyone's sight.

But he chose not to, and that was what having freedom of choice was all about. To know you _can_ but to choose if you _will_.

Still, as his steps led him down the street, the thud-thud-beep-thud-beeep went along with him. Right there in his head, beneath the scalp and inside his ears, the Synthetic Monster carried its tune. In spite of himself, Justin found his legs moving to the beat.

No, he could walk away, but The Cathedral would follow; drilled into his cortex, it would keep buzzing and buzzing until it he gets so used to it not to even notice it's there. The noise, like parasite, and there was no fighting it… Or was it?

Justin stopped dead in his tracks. Maybe, he thought, there _is_ a way to counter it after all. He picked up his pace as an idea begun forming in his head, pushing the beeps and the thuds away.

He had a vision, an image, forming right in front of his eyes. It would take some time to make it, he'd probably need a lots of Davyd's help for it, he might not even make it, but if you fail at first, try, try again…

_Think I'll call it… Headphones! _


	3. Temper'a'Mental

**Disclaimer: **Ok, you all know the stunt: I don't own anything here save for my twisted little mind, all right?

This is based on a wonderful mod HeX Coda by Stefan Gagne. Setting is his, characters are his; words are my own, but they are cheap and you can have them. You can have Delly as well… but I wouldn't recommend it. ;)

a note: Concerning the previous piece – the place is actually called Aether_Slam_! It's just that Justin calls it "Slum" instead. ;)

* * *

**Temper-a-Mental**

No, I don't _d_y_e_ my hair light pink! I was born with it, thank-you. Just like I'm a born sorceress. Yes, that's right – I'm born with magic in me. Sue me! …Huh, you would, wouldn't you? …Well, go right ahead! Go on, sue me! See what happens! I can fry your skinny ass off, you know…

What, threatening? Ha! Why the hex should I? No, the thing is, you _can't _sue me, kid – I'm _authorized_!

Huh? What, this? Agh… Damn! Yeah, it says "rejected" on my arm! Yeah, yeah, capital leathers, Cathedral official... grmf… the damned paint still didn't come off… sticking my hands wherever…

Eh? Open magic dangerous? You bet it is! Wanna see how much? ..Oh, forget it; I'm outta here!

_& & & & &_

Grmphufh… How low can you get? Arguing with stuck-up little brats… Go Hex Coders! Wo-fuckin'-hooo! What's next? Holding open panel discussions, maybe? Right. Lets all get together in peace and harmony, let's smile and shine and be reasonable and polite… and ridiculed and mocked and glared at while Davyd's trying to explain… Bah! Explain! Right! Yu can't _explain_ anything to a bunch of _idiots_, dammit! How come only Lester and I saw that? Speaking of the bastard…

Oh, I forgive him bailing out the way he did… But I ain't forgiving not taking _me _ along! _That_, he's gonna pay for! Oh yes! Mark my words! _He_ gets out and now _he_ gets all the fun and doing the _real_ thing at last, and _I_ get stuck with _panel discussions_ and…and… Melee Maidens!

Melee Maidens… Huh. Trust the tall-asses to come up with something like that… and trust tall-asses to get _hooked_ on it, too! Tall-asses and their smart-assed kids… _Argh_! I think I'll _explode_ here! I think I'll... _think I'll_…

/SIZZzzz-pfssssSSSsss-POW/

…!

Ughhh… looks like I _did_ burst there. Phuh… But it does feel good to let it out, you know. Let it out like this, I mean. Yeah., yeah, I know – I should control myself. Davyd just kept going on and on about it, form the day one. I can hear him now: "But Delly, you understand that control is blah, blah, yadda, yadda…" Auxcrap! It's all just bunch of auxcrap, Davyd! It! Ain't! Workin! Dammit!

Bah, but Davyd's _never _running out of explanations… incoherent as they tend to be most of the time. Well… Why the hex _should_ I control myself, huh Davyd? Oh, sure, you can take the snickers – shove your gnomish nose deep enough into your precious research and you won't even hear them. Well I do! And I'm sick of them! And what I'm sick of, I sizzle-fry! Yes, that's right! It's _my_ magic! Mine, you hear me? My own! It's my _blood_, it's my _strength_ and I'm damn well gonna use it, all right! …Just like dad did.

Eh, dad… Dear ol' dad… "Closet wizard"…Yeesh! Whoever came up with _that_ stupid term, I wonder? Hmph… one of the tall-asses, I bet. Well, first of all, he was not a _wizard_! He was a _sorcerer_! Like me! And second, there was no _closet_ that would last a day and a half with _him_ around.

So daddy dear was a sorcerer, all right? And yes, Merin, you moron, he too had a family to feed! Only _he_ wasn't hiding in a closet about it, ya know! And he _didn't_ throw his hand in with the Cathedral either!Hex, ya think he'd take it from them like you did? No way! Not dad! Ha!

And it's people like _you_, _halflings_ like _you_ that give us bad rep, Merin, not me! Yeah, that's right! _You_! As long as those like you just take it and the rest go growing crops we'll _all_ be bleedin' cabbage-folk… _and get half a glass of booze for a full price_!

Cabbage! Argh!

Well… I'll give ya cabbage, all right! _Flaming_ cabbage! Yup! Just like dad did… Until one day some tall-ass smart-fuck told him he ain't a _closet_-wizard but a _cupboard_ one! Like… why waste a whole closet when he'd fit in a cupboard just fine… Ugh! Just the kind of thing you'd expect a tall-ass to think funny.

Well… it's the smart-tall-ass who's growing cabbage _now_… Splattered across the field and fertilizing the soil! Hah!

Of course, next thing you know dad's got a half a dozen Corp wizards on his ass. Half an hour later, four out of six are _also_ cabbage fertilizers and dad's a nice, crispy stain on the ground…

Oh, but he went out with a bang! Just like he should have… Just the way he wanted it.

Eh? What do _I_ got from it now? Well, to begin with, I had a _great_ dad! And to end with, _I_ have more magic on my 3-foot-something frame than the Corps have in five 12-feet-top-secret bookshelves over there! _That's_ what I got! And you know what else? _I_ never planted _single_ crop in my whole, hex-damned life! Only thing _I_ ever planted were my elbows into some smart-tall-assed groins… Yeah, _and_ that frying pan in Daniel's face the other day.

No, I'm still not on speaking terms with that asshole. And no, I _don't_ plan to be, either! No… letters of apology ain't gonna cut it. No, a box-full of sweets, either. Yes, of course I had to climb on the chair first! How else do you think I could reach his damned head? And he's only lucky I didn't aim for the closest thing in my sight, ya know…

No! I _ain't_ sorry! That asshole had it coming! And he knew it damn well, too! What, you think I wouldn't know what he meant with that _card_? Halflings and frying pans! People! How cliché do you get? Well, you want a cliché, Daniel? Here it is! And be grateful I didn't heat it first!

…See? I _do_ control myself after all.

What? What'd I do with it? I'm keeping it in my room as a trophy. Yeah, that's right – I've a frying pan with Daniel's face imprinted on it. And it's priceless, too – For once that muzzle of his ain't looking smug on it!

Pandy and Miranda? Frying pan for them? Nah, why would I? They didn't piss me off… yet. Pandy - she's just too busy being Pandy, you know. And Miranda? Well… she trashes things with a warblade and I trash them with magic – We get along just fine there.

Huh? Who? Six? _Don't_ even_ mention_ miss whiny-pants in my presence! I might fry something again. Grrrr…. Stuck-up buttoned-up whine-cry cute-shy _proper-manners sad-story **no-spine purple-hair SISSY-ASS!**_ And they call that CUTE? AGRH! Oh, I'm gonna turn her into a snail one day! Just you watch! Spineless purple little snail… and I doubt anyone would even notice the difference.

No, I'm not going to wack her with a frying pan. No, Davyd neither. Then why do I - what? Why do I hold… Oh, _this_ frying pan, you mean? You really wanna know? Fine, I'll tell you then.

This one – I'm saving for Lester!


	4. Secrets

**Disclaimer: **Ok, you all know the stunt: I don't own anything here save for my twisted little mind, all right?

This is based on a wonderful mod HeX Coda by Stefan Gagne. Setting is his, characters are his; words and Sindel are my own, but they are _both_ cheap, so you can have them. ;)

* * *

**Secrets**

Daniel grinned as a shadow slid down the wall and landed neatly in a crouch on the tip of her toes and outstretched fingers of one hand. He stopped himself from sneezing as a light breeze blew his way, sending few strands of hair across his face and also filling his nostrils with a particularly nasty breath of toxic waste and garbage piles and he chanced a quick glance upwards before returning his attention back to the shady dead-end street once more.

Almost dawn.

Soon enough, rays of light would pierce through the hazy mist and smoke, refracting into several yellow-and-red colors of the spectrum on their way, heralding yet another polluted day. Day – the hustle, the bustle and the light; night – the quiet, the alert and the dark. And in between, the dawn – time for revealing the secrets conceived in the womb of yesterday's dusk.

Daniel smiled. The poetry of the moment was not lost to him.

The shadow in the corner moved briskly; her head jerked up, casting a quick glance left and right before her body shot up like an spring released, pressing her back against the wall. For a moment, she merely stood there, breathing through semi open mouth so that the air made little noise coming in and out. In his mind's eye, Daniel could clearly see the frown of concentration that he knew must have settled on the obscured face in the dark.

Yes, there it was. Just as he expected. A silent moment of effort and the shadows around the figure faded slightly - the deepest ones, sliding down her shoulders like a dropped cloak – and returned lazily to their respective corners. Like a soft breeze sending ripples through the dark-grey smoke, shaking the shadows off; like unwrapping a shadow-made veil.

Daniel awarded the sight a nod of approval. She was getting good.

He bid his time until the figure detached herself from the wall and stepped forth, her light gait leading her to the corner and close, yet not directly into the circle of light shed by the streetlamp. She neatly avoided it by moving close to the wall, and proceeded down the street.

Daniel smiled. "Well done."

The quiet voice stopped her dead in her tracks and her shoulders jerked back. Swiftly, she spun about on her toe and instantly, Daniel was met by a glinting cat-like pair of eyes, a dagger hilt sliding out of the arm-band and into the waiting hand on a reflex. But barely a second later the blade slid back into its sheath, accompanied by a sigh of recognition.

"Oh, it's you."

Daniel arched an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. "Not surprised to see me?"

"Surprised at you being nosy?" he heard her chuckle. "No. Actually, I was wondering what took you so long."

Daniel's smile took on its usual smug edge. "Oh, I just wanted to see how good you're getting first."

"Not much," she grinned, "Obviously, since you snooped me out. Then again, given the fact you probably had more practice with Pandy than is merciful – No wonder."

Daniel laughed. "Ah, but you _are_ getting good." He looked at her more carefully. "And in barely a year… Fascinating."

She made a face. "You mean you've been tailing me _that_ long?"

His customary mysterious smile was all the answer Daniel cared to offer.

"Now _that's_ depressing," her shoulders slumped. "Fat lot of good am I getting if I can't even sense _you_ at my back."

"Ah, but lets not forget that the Corps are probably _much_ lousier at it than I am."

She narrowed her eyes and fixed him with a stare. "I see… Well," she glanced around, scanning the still-empty street then glancing at the paling sky above. "If this is going to take long, and I suspect it just might, than lets walk. I _gotta_ stretch my legs."

Daniel grinned. "Lead the way."

_& & & & &_

A rat scurried along the garbage heap, the waste and the dirt shuffling beneath it's furry feet. A splash of water echoed from the side, its surface soon to loose its nightly pretense of crystal-clear black and take on it's usual, mud-grey hue.

A deep, yawning rumble sounded in the distance, breaking the silence further – the engines of the waste plant waking up with a rusty belch as the two figures drifted through the still dark street: one, tall and blonde-haired, clothes matching the gold of his hair and the grey of his eyes; other, elfin and slim, clad in dark green and ashen grey.

Somewhere behind them, a door squeaked open, a sleepy plant worker stumbling through – A good, honest early riser, out to earn his daily bread. Daniel listened to the slow, splashy footsteps walking down the street and away. Even in the distance, they were still louder than the soft-booted tread of the elfin female beside him and Daniel couldn't help but smile. The mechanics of the easy, soundless gait was known to him – he saw Pandy do it enough many times to learn it– but the actual performance always escaped him, so the ease and the grace with witch Pandy (and, as of late, Sindel as well) moved never seized to amuse him.

They strode in silence for a while longer, turning left, than right, cutting across the square and briefly pausing at the junction before opting for the more quiet narrow side street instead of the wider, main one. A thin line of fluorescent red stretched on the horizon, and turned the fog of the suburbs iron grey.

Day break… Soon… But not just yet.

For now, the mist was still hanging low in the streets, or better yet, what they all liked to _pretend_ was mist, but was, in truth, a heavy grey smog; the water still looked black and clear, the streets empty and almost clean and the houses all silent and neat. When the thin red line grows thicker and turns first orange, then golden-bright, warming its way upwards and across the sky, the last remnants of the night-time shades would be dispersed; when the day finally breaks, the oily stains on the water surface would be the first to reflect the truth. The streets would come to life with their full assortment of mud, people and dirt and the silence would crawl back into its deep, secure box of imagination, giving way to voices, shouts and music and the ever-present waste plant belching rumbles.

But not just yet.

Yes, there was truly something poetic about these last moments of dark and quiet, Daniel reflected. Nighttime was for secrets, daytime was for lies. And dawn was for the truth… and secrets revealed.

How fitting, he smiled to himself, throwing an bemused look his companion's way.

Sindel met is gaze with a questioning one of her own.

"So… do you plan to tell Dayvid about it?"

"About what?" She smirked slyly. If he didn't know better, he would've actually believed the innocent tone of her voice.

"Your… _shady_ business, of course."

She chuckled at his choice of words. "Which one, Daniel?"

Daniel stopped and made a pretense of thinking abut it for a moment. "Hmmmm… All of them?" he tried hopefully.

Sindel laughed.

"Some of them?" he tried again.

Her laughter bounced off the walls. Daniel put on his best hopeful-pleading smile.

"_Any_ of them?"

Sindel shook her head.

"Well," – Daniel wasn't giving up – "if not to Dayvid, to someone else, then? Or," he mused (or was it "teased"?), "Perhaps you're hoarding it all for yourself and are just waiting for the opportune moment to sell it to The Cathedral instead?"

Sindel stared at him for a second before bursting into another laughing fit. There was only playfulness in his voice, she knew, not real accusations of any sort. "Sure! Along with my body and soul. I'm just waiting for them to meet my price."

Daniel struck an "I'm pouting" pose, crossing arms across his chest. "You're cramping my style, Sindel! _I_ am the mysterious little bastard of the crew – not you!"

Sindel grinned. "_That_ you are, Daniel. Proven beyond reasonable doubt."

"Well," Daniel grinned back, "Let me keep the hard-earned honorary title, then."

Sindel snorted. "Selfish. That way you get it all – you get to keep both your title _and _your secrets, plus you want to snatch away mine as well."

There was something about the way she said "your secrets" that made Daniel's jovial expression turn strained. "I told you already, I think" he said more quietly, "that whatever I'm holding back does not put any of the team in any sort of danger…"

"And what I am doing does," Sindel finished his thought. "Then again, all I have is your word for it, Daniel…"

She left the sentence hanging and Daniel ran a hand through his hair, kept it there and looked away. He opened his mouth to answer, but closed them again as he met the glowing green piercing through him expectantly… and challengingly, daring him to give the same thing he was asking for. Secrets…

Secrets. How many was he keeping? His mind raced across the rocky field of things gone by, skipping stones and kicking pebbles, climbing and falling and dancing away from the avalanches of thoughts and their fragments while staring at the high adamantine peaks of polished, shiny granite in the distance. Every peak a mystery, every stone a secret, every pebble just a fragment of the scenery he had not let any of his teammates… _anyone_, to see. The landscape of secrets… And all they had was his word that those mountains were not for them to see, and again, just his word that whatever avalanche might come tumbling down, they would not get buried underneath.

He'd like it if they could trust him, but he knew that when one sees a foreboding ton of rock potentially rolling down one's path, the words "it won't hit you" were very difficult to believe.

Still, he kept trying, even while knowing it was a war lost from the start. He could win a battle, he might even win a few, but he couldn't win the war. But that only made the small victories all the more precious, the grains of trust he won as a prize even more worthy of saving – A precious treasure he would not like to lose.

He looked back at Sindel, letting out a tired sigh. "I thought we got past that stage." Sky knows it took them long enough.

"_Past_ that stage?" Sindel cocked her head wryly. "No we haven't."

Daniel's eyes shot a bit wider at the statement. For some reason, a small lump formed in his throat.

"I _don't_ trust you, Daniel. Never said I do. Blind belief is not my thing. In fact, I am sure that whatever you're keeping from us is bound to break the dam, sooner or later, and flood us all… and then we'll all be wet as ras and I, for one, will be very, _very_ pissed at you."

Daniel found it hard to keep the smile on his face, not only his lips, but his eyes as well. The one on his lips was waning; the one in his eyes darkened, taking on a sour hue of disappointment and, was it.. pain?

"But," Sindel added, "What I _do_ trust you about is when you say you'll do your best not to let it happen. _That_ I believe fully," she finished with a warm smile spreading across her features and slipped her hand under and over his own. She stepped away from the wall she was leaning on and pulled him along.

Mirth returned to his face. With a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to be pulled along. She looked up at him mischievously and a chuckle already formed in his throat, anticipating the words he knew she would say.

"And now I expect you to do the same for me."

"To trust you will not allow…"

"That I will _do my best not to allow…_"

"I stand corrected. To trust you will _do your best_ not to allow yourself to get caught sabotaging the Cathedral, tampering with shadows and trying to contact Lester (even though you know he will never answer). Or, if you do get caught, you will do your best not to let the rest of us fry for it," he recited in one breath and grinned at the smirking elf beside him.

"That's the idea, yes."

His next words came out sounding a bit more serious. "_Can_ you do it? That second thing, I mean."

She looked up and chuckled. "What, can I get caught?"

He gave her a "don't play stupid "look.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Guess you'll have to wait 'til I get caught and see."

She tugged at his arm again and they resumed their aimless stroll in silence for a while; SIndel, staring in front of her and Daniel casting an occasional glance her way. Sabotage…

Well, of course she'd be doing it. What else could he expect from a rogue like her? All that time she spent with Pandy, practicing, hacking codes and breaking chyphers… It seemed as if she was doing it for kicks and practice only, but he was onto her for months now. Still, he bid his time, waiting, putting off the inevitable confrontation indefinitely… Why? Because, he was telling himself, it was really nothing overly serious… yet. And also, because he was curious to see just how far could she go… and how far _would_ she go. But also, he admitted at last, because he dreaded that confrontation and all the potential problems it might bring; because keeping secrets was what _he_ did and, regardless how much he enjoyed revealing the mysteries others had in stash, somehow it still felt sour and wrong to poke – to poke into secrets held by one of the rare who never showed any desire to poke and pry into his own; because she trusted him on his word solely… because she was a friend, and that friendship was something he did not fancy losing.

Sabotage… No, it wasn't that serious, Daniel decided and found himself trusting her not to cross the line.. even if she _did_ push the limits quite dangerously sometimes. Trust for trust. And besides, for all her occasional rashness, Sindel was still not Lester – Lester, whom she tried contacting ever since he left.

And that last attempt of hers was really something. Daniel sighed. How he wished he could've seen those ruins. But, as it happens, Sindel took Lester and Miranda for a ride instead. He sighed again. For some reason, he still felt a little bit hurt. And now she was trying to contact the renegade… again and this time around, Daniel had no doubts she would succeed. Well, in getting the message through, at least. The bracer…

The bracer from the ruins - A part of Lester's arm mechanism, containing a rich Second Try-style melody, only filtered and changed by Lester himself; the bracer he discarded, now containing a synthesized, modern version of the tune that only three people (bar the ghost) knew, and only one out of three with skill and will to extract it and broadcast it now. Oh yes, Lester _would_ hear it, and know beyond doubt who's calling.

To no avail, of course – the man was way too proud to ever answer – but she kept trying nevertheless. There was something in that persistence to be admired. Like, for one, even if it sometimes did melt into pure stubbornness, it never spilled over the line dividing from sheer zealotry. And in that (as well as many other things), Sindel was different than their ex-teammate… Which was why she opted to stay with the Coders in the first place, sticking with them even when her favorite one bailed out, Daniel reflected… Which was when _he_ came into view more closely and…

"…and I'm still trying to get the right… err, _feel_ of it before I try tampering with it further, which is why I still don't want to… You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

Daniel stopped suddenly, his mind returning to present. It was not often he got so lost in thought not to pay attention to what goes on around him. He bit his lip and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. I wondered away a bit it would seem. What were you talking about?"

"My tampering with light, of course. Or, more precisely, with the null potential of shadow. Thought you might be interested."

"And I am," he smiled broadly. "Now, if you would just repeat the last two hundred words or so…"

Sindel laughed and shook her head. "All right. What I was saying, and you better listen this time, was that…"

_& & & & &_

Daniel kept walking, keeping his ears open and letting himself be dragged into conversation fully. The sky above them paled as Sindel went into quirks and details of her up-until-then secretive experiments and research into the "negative light". A half-globe on the horizon turned into a full one, the warm glow spreading around and onto the world below. The dawn came and went, blending inconspicuously into yet another day – a shift from nighttime secrets to the daylight lies. He listened carefully to her points and observations, but when she came to the part that worried her – something about "things in there", beings of pure shadow that looked like time-wraiths, but weren't that, that smelled like echoes, but not _quite_ like it – he stopped her. As much as he would enjoy peering even deeper into the secrets she had uncovered, Daniel felt it was time to stop.

The daylight came and spread, the magic of the daybreak dispersed into daily mundane.

"Let's get some coffee," he told her and led the way to the nearest bar.

The day came to stay: the time for the truth was over. Shadows and their secrets were better left to wait.

Wait, for some other dawn to reveal.

* * *

_Well, that's all folks! Unless, that is, I get another irresistable ugre to shoot my mouth off like this. Sudden bursts of inspiration are a bit hard to resist. Thanks for the reviews, btw - I was writing this for fun alone and I really wasn't expecting any... which, of course, doesn't mean I'll be objecting to them. ;)_


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